Fireflies And Empty Skies

THEN // PART 1 

When they first met, Laura was an ER nurse working at a fairly big hospital in a less than stellar neighborhood. The pay was lousy compared to the workload and the almost daily run-ins with certain ethnic groups that thought that intimidating the staff of the only hospital that was still open was a stellar idea. But she enjoyed her job and her colleagues were awesome and, despite the occasional gang wars, she liked the patients. They were the kind of people who had been dealt a heavy hand and who made do. Of course, she wasn’t expecting teary-eyed gratitude but she couldn’t deny she liked her current patients more than the stiff upper lip posh people who had a hard time understanding their kid’s common cold wasn’t more important than, say, a ruptured caecum of the blue-collar worker on the seat next to them.

Some patients visited once, some became regulars, and some regulars became pains in the ass. As nurses, they all were more than accustomed to men hitting on them and after some time, it became just another side of the job. An uncomfortable, sometimes even frightening side, but not enough to resign. (And sometimes Laura sighed to herself and wondered just how much she’d learned to accept as just another part of her work.)

Some regulars piqued her interest more than others. The malnourished girl who came in with broken extremities once a month but who cheerfully said she was still a better rider than her little sister. The subdued young man who claimed he was alright but who was clearly afraid of his boyfriend. The old lady who was sure they all were just green lizards under their skin and she thought it was her God-given duty to douse herself with Borax and preach that truth from the rooftops—literally. The worried father who kept bringing his daughter in week after week, hoping they could cure her from being a lesbian.

And then there was this one young man with rugged good looks, a mop of unruly hair, and sharp eyes that seemed too old in his face. His looks had nothing to do with his various injuries including but not limited to black eyes, bloody knuckles, and fractured ribs, all the way up to cleaning up cuts that looked way too much like whipping for her liking. She followed protocol and asked him about them every single time but he deflected her questions or just switched to outrageous flirting which didn’t diminish her concern but at least made her roll her eyes. She figured he was either one of those Fight Club fanboys or just unbelievably clumsy but there wasn’t much more she could do. 

It was the attempted robbery that changed everything. 

She was on her way home from a double shift, cutting through the park as she always did when three muggers tried to rob her. She told them she had three dollars and two weird Greece coins in her person at which point they decided they would rape her too. She didn’t have time to even whip out her pepper spray before someone took all three down in a blur of acrobatics she was sure she’d last seen in a circus.

”You okay?” Her rescuer asked after he’d casually tied them to the lamppost with zip ties. When he turned around, she realized it was her regular Fight Club fanboy.

”Um…what just happened?” She asked, slightly bewildered.

The man shrugged and shot her a grin. ”I saved you from muggers!”

”Yes, I sort of figured that out,” she said slowly.

He peered at her from under his shaggy hair. ”You probably don’t remember me. I’m Clint. You sure you’re okay? Never mind, I’m getting you something warm and sugary.”

She tried to tell him no but he told her that he couldn’t have his favorite nurse go into a shock so hot chocolate it was. He took her to a small cafe in the corner and treated her with hot chocolate that was way too watery to actually taste good but she drank it anyway because it was hot and she knew she needed it after what had happened. She sipped her drink while Clint told her funny stories about elephants and rats playing basketball and before she realized it, her cup was empty and she felt better than she had in some while.

***

Clint had an uncanny timing to just wander by when she was working late and he often walked her through the park. It never went further than that because getting involved with a patient was highly unethical and unprofessional, and honestly, Clint just seemed genuinely happy to have someone to talk to. He had a quirky sense of humor and he lacked social finesse in a way that was mostly adorable. As time went on, she learned that, when not injured and/or drugged to the gills, Clint was a sarcastic but good-natured ass who clearly had no higher education but was whip-smart anyway. 

She got so used to their late-night talks that when Clint disappeared, she couldn’t help but worry. She wasn’t sure if she could define them as friends but they were at least friendly acquaintances and, considering Clint’s various injuries, she wondered not for the first time if he was tangled up in something more serious.

And then, almost a year later, he was back, leaning casually on the nurse’s station and chatting with Janna when Laura returned from her break.

”My favorite nurse!” Clint greeted her with a wide, open grin. ”Not that you all aren’t wonderful nurses, I’m sure,” he hurried to add and then continued, softer, ”Good to see you, Laura.”

She raised a brow but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. ”Look at you, standing here with all your extremities intact and all. What can I do for you this time?”

Clint looked a bit sheepish and rubbed his neck. ”Um, actually, I came to see you,” he said. ”I’d like to talk to you?”

”You are talking to me,” she answered, a bit distracted as dr. Martinez hurried by and handed her a stack of papers.

”Um. I meant over coffee?”

That gave her a pause. ”Why?” She asked, suspicious.

Clint’s eyes went wide and he raised his hands up in a placating move. ”Oh, no, no no no, I’m not trying to hit on you. No! Sorry! I just…I’d like to talk to you. Just talk.” He whirled around and pointed at the dingy coffee shop across the street. ”If we go there, your colleagues can keep an eye on us.” 

Laura gave him a long look and then nodded. ”Okay. Just to talk. But my shift ends at ten.”

Clint’s shoulders slumped in relief. ”Thanks. And that’s alright, I’ll just wait over there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. 

She blinked. ”It’s five.”

”I know,” Clint said cheerfully, knocked the tabletop twice with his knuckles, and retreated to the corner.

She shook her head and turned, shrugging at Janna and Mariette’s raised brows. She soon lost the track of time, surfacing only occasionally as she had the chance to gulp down some soda or run to the bathroom. Each time she checked the corner, Clint sat there quietly with a book, almost blending to the surroundings.

As it turned out, Clint really didn’t try to take her on a date, he just wanted to let her know how much she meant to him. ”But not in a creepy asshole way!” Clint said, his eyes wide and earnest. ”It’s just…well, remember when you asked me about the cuts?”

Which ones? Laura wanted to ask but just nodded instead.

”So, yeah, I was tortured,” Clint admitted with a shrug and gave her a rueful, stilted smile. ”I wasn’t in a good place and I got into a lot of trouble and…well, long and complicated story short; in many ways, you were the only good thing in my life. I know it sounds creepy but that’s not how I mean it.”

”Um,” Laura said slowly. 

Clint huffed. ”Crazy, right? But…my life was a mess, you know? I was a barely functioning human being and it kinda made everything easier, knowing that when I got beat up, there was this one ER with this one nurse who took none of my shit but who was willing to put up with me anyway.” He gave another small shrug and frowned at his coffee. ”I know you were just doing your job but it was nice to know someone cared.”

***

After that, Clint started showing up at the ER every now and then but never as a patient. He always had something with him: a stack of bright pink glitter pens, a giant carton of fries for the whole shift, two Red Bulls and a bag of Reese’s when she was on her fifth night shift in a row. Sometimes he asked her for a coffee and sometimes she said yes. They slowly morphed from friendly acquaintances to friends and she realized she genuinely enjoyed his company.

Clint had been back for three months when he kissed her for the first time, just a quick, shy peck on her cheek. She sighed and said no and he said okay and apologized, looking oddly relieved that she’d turned him down but still wanted to stay as friends. She had a sinking feeling Clint had never had friends and was pitifully glad he wouldn’t have to lose the only one he had.

***

He’d been back for seven months when he sighed, ”I really want to kiss you, Laura.” 

They were at her place, watching Monty Python reruns and drinking cheap beer. She was in her pajamas and hadn’t bothered brushing her hair because when she’d finally had the chance to crash for 11 hours after seven night shifts, brushing her hair wasn’t that high on her priority list. Clint had appeared at her door with pizza and beer, wearing a dorky Star Trek shirt and a hole in his purple socks. 

She gave him a considering look and climbed on his lap. ”That sounds like an excellent plan, mister,” she said.

”Really?” Clint breathed, eyes wide. ”I mean, I know.”

***

Almost a year into their relationship, Clint told her about his past: about his alcoholic, violent parents, about the orphanage, the circus, the abuse and betrayals, the mercenary years—everything that had happened to him when he had first been too young to truly understand what he was doing and by the time he had understood, it had already been too late. He refused to give her the exact number of his kills but admitted it was in hundreds rather than dozens.

”I have a real job now,” he said, earnest. ”Security work. Steady income with full dental and all other insurance shit. I’m like a proper human now, but…I understand if you don’t want to see me after this,” he finished quietly. 

”I have no idea what to say to that,” she answered.

She had a day off so they were in her apartment, curled up in bed. Clint rested his cheek on her stomach and she carded her fingers through his hair. His face was relaxed and he looked almost blissed-out, an expression that didn’t really go with what she’d just heard. 

”I don’t know how to do this either,” he said with a rueful smile. ”I mean, I like you a lot and I’ve now told you all my secrets, but…” He frowned and shrugged with one shoulder, jostling her a bit. ”What am I supposed to do now?”

”What do you mean?”

”Are we in a relationship?”

Laura’s hand stopped and she gave him an unimpressed look. ”Well, I sincerely hope so. Because if we’re not, I’ve been misinformed.”

”No, I mean… what does it mean?”

”A relationship?” She asked, slightly incredulous until he saw the genuine confusion on Clint’s face. ”What do you think it means?”

”Well…” Clint started and turned on his back, staring at the ceiling, and crossed his fingers on his chest. ”My parents were drunks who mainly screamed at each other in between getting hammered. That’s not what I want, never, ever. Just, no.”

”That’s not a relationship, Clint. That was mutually abusive codependency,” Laura said, twirling the longer curls on Clint’s forehead around her finger.

”Yeah. Anyway. In the circus, most people just slept with whoever they liked. But I always thought Esmeralda and Janus had something good going on.”

She tilted her head trying to recall what Clint had told about his time in the circus. ”The strong woman and the…lion tamer?”

”No, Janus was our zoo-keeper. But yeah. They loved each other a lot but they also slept with others.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it, momentarily at a loss. ”Is that something you’d want?” She asked carefully.

Clint turned and sat up. The afternoon light danced on his skin, painting it with patterns that intertwined with his scars. ”I don’t know,” he said. ”I like this,” he said, waving a finger between them, ”and I’d like to keep going.”

She didn’t have to think long before answering. ”I like this too,” she said with a smile, not missing the way Clint’s shoulders sagged with relief. ”But. I need to think about the things you told me today. Thank you for trusting me with your past,” she said and squeezed his hand. ”How about we take it one day at a time and see where we end up in?”

”Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

”On one condition: for now, I’m the only one you sleep with. If you want someone else, you talk to me, okay? Don’t go behind my back.”

Clint nodded once and answered her hesitant smile with a wide grin. ”I won’t, I promise. But is it okay to go behind your back in other ways?” He asked with a raised brow.

”Wha—” 

She managed to let out a squeal when Clint flipped her, only to groan with pleasure as Clint buried his face in between her thighs.

NOW

The kitchen is hot and humid with the late afternoon heat and the stew slowly simmering on the stove. Laura groans and straightens her back slightly, wincing at the pull on her groin. The third trimester is proving to be such a joy, again. She blows a strand of hair off her forehead as she stirs the stew and waits for her tea to steep. She can’t handle coffee anymore but luckily strong tea has proven to be an adequate substitute. Or at least the fancy variety Tasha sends them every now and then.

Cooper and Lila sit at the table doing their homework and when their chatter stops abruptly, she raises a brow and turns to look—

And promptly drops the ladle, smearing stew on her tunic. She couldn’t care less.

”Phil! You’re up,” she says with a smile. It’s been a while since he came down on his own and for a moment, she lets herself hope.

And then she sees his confused, lost eyes and sighs. Aw, crap.

”Did you sleep well, Phil?” She asks. ”Don’t worry if you’re feeling a bit confused now, you’ve been in an accident and your memory doesn’t work properly yet.” She nods at the kids. ”These two are Lila and Cooper and I’m Laura. And Nathaniel here,” she says and gently pokes at her belly, ”is still a passenger.”

She tells herself not to be disappointed when Phil doesn’t make a comment about Natasha feeling betrayed when the baby isn’t a girl.

”Are you hungry?” She asks. ”This stew will take a couple of hours still but there’s yogurt in the fridge and bread in the box on that corner,” she says, inclining her head. ”Grab some if you feel like it.”

The lost look in Phil’s eyes breaks her heart. He looks slowly around, taking in the kitchen like it’s the first time he’s in the room instead of living in the house for years. ”I’ll just have some coffee if that’s okay,” Phil finally says. His words are quiet, halting, and not like his own. 

He doesn’t sound like Phil.

Lila and Cooper watch him with wide eyes and then shoot a look at her. Lila bites her lip and looks like she wants to says something but Laura stops her by shaking her head and raising a finger to her lips when Phil’s gaze draws to the view from the window.

”Sure,” she says calmly. ”Cups are over there in the cupboard with the purple cow on the door. Cooper, could you please give Phil a hand?” She tilts her head and shrugs. ”The new coffee maker acts up sometimes,” she adds.

Phil nods, opens the cupboard, and unerringly takes out his own mug. He waits placidly as Cooper serves him and then turns and without a word, walks out to the porch with his mug.

Laura stares after him for a moment before she sighs again.

”The coffee maker is fine,” Cooper points out as he returns the pan to its proper place and sits at his books, leaning his chin on his hand.

Laura gives him a sideways glance and keeps stirring the stew.

”Oh. Right,” Cooper says after a moment. He stares at his homework with a frown between his brows, looking so much like his dad for a moment that Laura’s breath catches.

She misses Clint. Even though she doesn’t need him at the farm all the time, she still misses the chance to just sit side by side, talking about their days, and watching the sun set behind the field. She misses having another adult at the house and now, with Phil, he misses Clint for a whole other reason.

But Clint is tied up with Steve and Natasha, digging up old crap and exposing who-knows-what. He’s mostly drowning himself in work in whatever is left of the collapsed SHIELD while Steve and Natasha run around doing…whatever they’re doing at the moment. Laura isn’t quite sure. She’s been so wrapped up with the kids, with the pregnancy, with Phil that she simply doesn’t have the brainpower to think about what conspiracy SHIELD is dealing with this week.

”When is Dad coming back?” Cooper asks out of the blue, glaring holes in his book.

She brushes her hair behind her ear and shifts her stance. Nathaniel is getting heavy and her hips tend to ache when she stands still for a longer period of time. ”I don’t know.”

”Is Daddy coming back?” Lily asks hesitantly, tears brimming in her eyes.

Laura closes her eyes and sighs. ”I don’t know, honey,” she says. 

***

”Are you my wife?” Phil asks. His voice is perfectly polite and he sounds mildly apologetic, like he’s embarrassed to even ask.

This is one of the good days. Phil’s been up the whole day, he’s been walking around and even helping in the kitchen, and he remembers their names. On the bad days, he zones out as soon as he stops, which means Laura has to keep an eye on him at all times.

There have been fewer bad days lately. Barely.

”No, I’m your friend,” Laura says. 

”Oh, good,” Phil says, sounding relieved. Then he blinks and frowns. ”Not that there would be anything wrong with it but—I don’t think I’d be married to a woman?”

Laura can’t keep back a small huff of laughter. ”Ah, no. You’re not married but you’ve been in a stable and loving relationship with a man for the past several years.” 

”Oh,” Phil says again. There’s something deeply pleased in the small crinkle of his eyes. ”Who is he?”

Laura tilts her head. ”My husband,” she says calmly. 

As much as he hates these days when she has to walk Phil through the building blocks of his life, this moment is always a revelation. The way his eyes go slightly wide, the way his eyes jump to hers and then dart away, the way he blanches. Some days his reaction is more visible, sometimes it’s barely there. Today seems to be the former.

”I have to say I’m not sure of what to do,” Phil says quietly. ”You clearly know who I am but I have no idea who you are other than the wife of my lover. I don’t know where I am or why. I don’t know what you want from me.”

…and then there’s this. It doesn’t matter whether Phil’s having a good or a bad day, he always ends up here: calmly dissecting his situation and stating the facts. It never fails to impress her. She takes a sip of her chamomile tea and rolls her ankles. They’re swollen and they ache and she has a feeling they’ll ache a lot more in the coming days. 

”Look, I know this must be hard for you to take in when you barely know who you are. But here are the facts,” she says. ”Your name is Phil Coulson. You’re 49, a former security agent. You were critically injured at work, resulting in your chest wound that led to surgery-related brain damage and your retrograde amnesia.” She gives him an encouraging smile. ”As I said, you’ve been in a stable relationship with my husband for several years now and you used to divide your time between this place and your own flat in New York.”

”That’s…” Phil falls silent and frowns. 

”That’s a lot to take in, I know,” Laura says softly. ”We’ve been over this quite many times already.”

Phil looks up. ”I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you,” he says. ”I don’t remember you so I get to learn these things anew each time. You, on the other hand…You’re forced to meet a stranger wearing the face of a friend.”

Laura ducks her head and blinks several times. Somehow, Phil always manages to be Phil, considerate, understanding, even if he’s lost himself in whatever void Nick’s procedure turned his mind into.

”Well,” she says. ”As I said, I’m your friend. We’re your family. You’re home.” She hopes her smile is more hopeful than brittle. ”We’ll figure this out, together. Okay?”

Phil nods. He’s quiet for a moment and then asks, hesitantly, ”Would you like me to rub your ankles? They look swollen.”

”Oh gods, yes,” Laura groans.

THEN // PART 2

The first real test was Bobbi Morse.

At that point, they’d been married for 15 months and Clint had been part of SHIELD for a couple of years, gaining a steady reputation as an asshole with impeccable aim and balls of steel. He didn’t talk much about his work at home but he answered if Laura asked. She usually didn’t; her pregnancy and everything that came with it gave her enough to worry about but she was pretty sure Clint’s ”security job” was a bit more than just security.

When Clint started talking about a firecracker of a woman called Bobbi, Laura knew something was up. At first, she thought it was just Clint being in awe of a highly competent agent—it wouldn’t have been the first time—but when his enthusiasm didn’t wane, she decided to bite the bullet and ask him.

”Tell me about Bobbi,” she said one night after Clint had made her come twice before fucking her into the mattress. Her whole body tingled and she felt pleasantly sore, Clint’s come slowly seeping out of her and his bulk a warm, solid presence behind her back. Clint’s hand rested gently against her bump, waiting for the baby to express their opinion about his performance, as usual.

”What do you want to know?” Clint muttered against her shoulder.

She took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissed his knuckles. ”You mention her a lot. So, this is my permission. Tell me about her.”

After a short moment, Clint started talking. He painted her a picture of a fiercely intelligent and independent agent who left everyone in her shadow and took none of Clint’s shit.

”Do you want her?” She said when Clint paused to draw breath.

”I—” Clint stuttered.

”Remember what you promised me? If you want someone else, you talk to me. So, do you?” She felt Clint tense up behind her, sighed, and turned around to face him. ”Words, Clint. I need your words,” she said, not unkindly. ”If you want to fuck her, I want to know why. Are you bored with me? Does the pregnancy make me undesirable? Is it because you want to scratch the itch? To blow off steam? Talk to me!”

Clint’s eyes widened with every word and his mouth hung open. ”Bored? Holy shit, Laura—no! You don’t bore me. I love you! You are beautiful and smart, you keep me on my toes. You’re amazing!” He swallowed and brushed her belly with his knuckles. ”You’re growing our child inside you, and that’s…” He paused and shook his head. ”I still can’t believe you want to do this with me,” he whispered. ”That you think I can be a dad.”

She sighed and cupped his face, poking a kiss on his nose. ”Of course you can. You’ll be an awesome dad, I know it.” 

He gave her a watery smile, took her hand in his, and pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. 

”Then why?” she pressed.

”It’s not because she’s hot. I mean, yeah, she is. She’s a trained agent, of course she’s hot.” She raised a brow and Clint gave her a wry smile. ”But not as hot as you ordering a bunch of construction workers around in your pajamas and bunny slippers.”

”You have a thing for bossy women,” she teased.

”Yeah, I do. But anyway…” Clint fell silent for a moment, thinking. ”Remember that mugger who tried to come at us last month? And how jittery I was after? It’s that. It’s the extra energy I have after an op or a training session. And—”

”Sex is one way to burn it off,” she concluded.

Clint nodded. ”Yeah. But it’s also that I don’t have to worry around her. No, that came out wrong.” He bit his lip. ”I don’t have to keep myself in check around her. I don’t have to worry about my strength or if she could take it. She could take me out at any time and that’s a relief.”

Laura gave him an incredulous look. ”You mean that every single time you’ve manhandled me, you’ve been holding back?”

Clint gave her a sheepish look. ”Kinda? Not always, but… yeah.”

”Huh.” The baby kicked her in the bladder and she winced, shifting a bit. ”So, is it a thing? Using your strength?”

”I don’t think so?” Clint said slowly. ”I haven’t really thought about it.”

She was silent for a long moment and then said, ”I need to think about this, okay? I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes, either. Just… give me time, okay?”

Clint gave her a small, relieved smile and nodded. ”Yeah. Take all the time you need,” he said.

They settled into a comfortable silence, Laura slightly on her side and Clint resting his cheek just under her heart where he could both hear her heartbeat and feel the baby move.

Before she drifted off, Laura murmured, ”Clint, honey? Thank you for telling me.”

*****

Clint didn’t bring it up again but he still talked about Bobbi every now and then. To Laura, it seemed like talking about his attraction, admitting it to Laura without facing an outright rejection had all settled him. He seemed more relaxed and at ease, almost relieved. He was content to wait for her and Laura took her time thinking the whole proposition through. 

Was it frightening? Hell, yes. Even though Laura felt good in general (and Clint clearly adored her pregnant figure), hearing her husband desire someone else made her doubt herself. Because she was just a rumpled, pregnant nurse and Clint spent his days around beautiful, fit, and lethally smart people. She wasn’t afraid of Clint cheating on him—they’d had that talk back in the beginning and several times before getting married—but realistically speaking, with the work he did, Clint had had the opportunity dozens of times and she would’ve been none the wiser. 

But that wasn’t Clint. Despite his unconventional upbringing and his slightly stilted look at relationships, he was loyal. Yeah, he probably would’ve harbored his attraction and let it slowly seep away but when Laura asked, he’d come clean. He’d told her about Bobbi, had opened himself up and trusted her, even though he knew her view on relationships was more traditional than his own. And now, he trusted her to think it through.

She was confident that if she said no, Clint would respect her wish but at what cost? Would he just shrug it off and ask her again some other time or would he take her word as a sign of mistrust? And if she said yes, would it put an unneeded strain on their relationship? Would she feel neglected—and what if she didn’t feel like having sex after the baby, would Clint run to Bobbi’s arms?

She did a bit of digging, although she needed to be discreet about it. The small suburb they’d moved in was a lovely place but she wasn’t interested to see how hot the rumor mill would run if she openly started asking the local bookshop after books on unconventional relationships. The academic papers she found didn’t really answer her questions but they offered a different kind of content to her medically-oriented mind than alt.polyamory usenet groups.

But in the end, she decided to say yes. First, she wanted to show Clint she trusted him and valued his honesty, and second, she also wanted to challenge her own views on what counted as a happy relationship. And yes, she also wanted to test what would happen: would Clint come back to her or would he cheerily fuck his way through SHIELD. (At this point of her reasoning, Laura closed her eyes and sighed, telling herself she was an idiot high on pregnancy hormones)

When she told him, Clint watched her over the kitchen table for a long while.

”You know, you don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. ”I don’t want you to give me permission if it makes you feel uncomfortable. Or if you think it’s, I don’t know, something to check off your to-do -list.”

She took a sip of her herbal tea and raised a brow. ”Honey, when have I ever done something I don’t want to do?”

”So, why then?”

She lowered her mug on the table and cocked her head. ”I thought you’d be happy with my answer,” she mused.

”I just wanna know you’re doing it for the right reason,” Clint said. ”It wasn’t an ultimatum, Laura.”

”I know,” she said calmly. ”Let’s just say that I’m…curious. It’s not something I need because I’m more than happy with just you. But if it’s something you need, I’m willing to try.”

”Okay,” Clint said. ”Thank you.” He stared into his coffee for a long time and then, finally, said softly, ”I really love you. So much.”

***

What happened was…nothing. Not really. 

Laura was honest enough to admit that she side-eyed Clint at times, trying to figure out if he’d approached Bobbi already. But there wasn’t really anything that stuck out like a sore thumb. Yes, Clint wasn’t as on edge as he came back from a difficult op but that was all. Whatever agreement Clint had with Bobbi stayed at SHIELD and didn’t carry over into their marriage.

She expected things to change when Cooper was born, mostly because the delivery was a difficult one and she was hideously sore afterward. The mere idea of sex felt repulsive to her, what with breastfeeding and leaking breasts and the contractions that sadly didn’t stay in the delivery room. She was pretty sure that after two months, Clint would take the chance to blow off steam with Bobbi but when she suggested it, Clint stared at her like she’d grown an extra head.

”No! I—what?” He sputtered. ”I don’t…argh!” He finished changing Cooper and then carefully made his way to the bed, setting the baby gently beside her. ”First, Bobbi and I are done. It’s nothing drastic, it just didn’t work between us anymore. Second, just…” He huffed, frustrated. ”Why the hell would I want to go fuck someone else when you’re here? Laura, you gave birth to the most perfect little human being ever and you did it with me there. I mean, yeah, I get horny on a regular basis but I have two perfectly functioning hands.” He stopped and let out a disgusted sound. ”Besides, having sex with someone else just because your downstairs went through a grinder sounds like a major asshole move. And I’m not that kind of an asshole—what did I say?”

To her embarrassment, Laura realized she was crying. ”Uh, nothing,” she said and wiped her wet cheeks, rolling her eyes at herself. ”Hormones. Let’s blame it on them.”

”Your mom is a silly woman but we love her to the moon and back anyway,” Clint stage-whispered to Cooper and laughed when the baby smacked him on the nose.

***

Time went by. Her hormones balanced out, her body slowly knitted itself back together, Cooper got bigger. Clint loved him and he loved Laura and he showed it in so many, creative ways. Clint got promoted and they started thinking about getting a bigger house—perhaps even an old farm—and getting a dog and a couple of horses. Perhaps another kid.

Clint had a couple of other arrangements after Bobbi. He always talked them through with Laura but she no longer felt the same anxiety she had the first time. In her mind, others might borrow Clint for a while but she was the one he came home to. 

”You’re my home,” Clint said one day when he was chopping vegetables for a casserole. ”You are my anchor, my Northern star. This is where I belong and I love it. I love you. You keep me grounded. I might want to fuck someone after a mission because I know them and trust them with my life but you’re the one I trust with my heart. They keep me safe on the mission but you…” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. ”You keep me.”

NOW

It’s clear that Phil is trying. He’s trying so very hard to keep up appearances, to parse up a whole life from eroded fragments of something that was shattered into irreparable pieces. Even in this fragile state, he’s sharp and cunning, and so convincing that for someone else, it might seem genuine. But Laura knows him. She might not love him like Clint does but Gods, she loves him as a friend, and the hollow shell that’s walking around wearing Phil’s facsimile face makes her heart hurt.

She nudges him in the right direction daily, offers him morsels of shared memories he can build upon, nods and smiles when he stumbles and says the wrong things at the worst time. She hides her winces and reminds the kids that Daddy is sick and needs time to recover, because perhaps this time he’ll keep remembering, perhaps this time will be different. In the silence of her mind, she seethes and rages at the man who said he was Phil’s oldest friend but who still was so very willing to put him through this prolonged torture.

If she was a praying sort of a woman, she’d pray. Instead, she hopes.

”I’m so sorry, I don’t quite remember your name,” Phil says and she wants to close her eyes and scream. But because she made a promise, she shakes her head, gives him a small smile, and says, ”I’m Laura. We’ve been friends for some time now.”

*****

It’s terrifying, deciding Phil has progressed enough to meet Clint. She’s usually very careful, not because she’s worried about Phil but because she’s worried sick about Clint. As cruel as it sounds, if Phil’s condition deteriorates (again), he simply…forgets. Again. But Clint? He holds on to the shattered memories, the small pieces of the man he’s loved for so long, and having his hopes crushed is almost more than he can handle. Laura knows he still carries the guilt of Phil’s death and when Phil doesn’t remember him, something in Clint breaks just a bit more.

Clint is full of cracks. Some of them are hairline fractures, some are almost gaping holes that still bleed marrow, and despite all his bluster, he’s so very fragile. Laura is far from codependent and she doesn’t do saving, but if she can stand as a buffer between Clint and a thing that could shatter him for good, she will. 

Perhaps that’s what it means, to truly love someone.

Whenever Clint calls, they always follow the same pattern: first they talk about the kids and her pregnancy, then about the farm and whatever needs fixing. Then Laura asks him about what’s going on in SHIELD and Clint tells her, exaggerating some things and leaving other things out.

And then they talk about Phil. 

It’s careful, like dancing on eggshells. Laura can feel Clint’s hope through the faint static and she wishes she could just promise Clint that this time, everything would be alright, this time Phil would be back for good. 

Thing is, this time Phil really is doing better.

”It’s been two weeks now,” she says one day. It’s the longest time Phil’s gone without a relapse. ”He gave Coop a math lesson earlier today.”

”Really?” Clint asks.

Laura lets her smile echo through her voice. ”Yeah. I think you should come home and see for yourself.”

The line is silent for a moment and then, ”Laura,” Clint says, and his voice breaks.

She lets out a wet laugh. ”I know, honey. I know.”

*****

Clint comes home two days later. He texts in advance so that Laura knows the approximate time when he’s coming so that she can tell the kids. It’s early morning when the familiar sound of Clint’s hideous, bright purple pick-up echoes from the driveway, and the kids let out a squeal and run outside. Laura winces slightly at the noise, pretty sure it woke Phil up. But she doesn’t have it in her to shush the kids. They’ve waited for a long time to see their dad and frankly, so has she.

Out on the porch, Clint lets out a roar and the kids giggle and Laura doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening: as usual, Clint lifts both kids up at the same time and spins around, making Cooper giggle and Lila let out a delighted scream.

”Good grief, kids! Why do you always grow like weeds when I’m not home?” Clint chuckles as they stumble in. He lowers them down and kneels, ruffles Cooper’s hair and exchanges exaggerated kisses on the cheeks with Lila. Then he stands up and turns to her.

”Hi, gorgeous,” Clint says and kisses her deeply, then hugs her tightly and tucks his face against her neck. ”I’ve missed you all. Starks’s a pain in the ass.”

”So it’s business as usual?” Laura snorts.

After a moment, Clint raises his head and just…looks at her. ”I’m sorry I’ve been away,” he says. 

She answers, ”But you came home to me.” 

It’s a familiar routine they repeat every time Clint comes home and it helps to settle them both. 

Clint kisses her again and then simply leans his forehead against hers, wounds an arm around her, places a hand against her belly, and closes his eyes. Behind them, the kids go on with their morning routines but for a moment, Laura and Clint just stay still, drinking each other in.

The Clint nudges her.  ”He’s in the stairs, right?” He whispers.

”Yeah,” Laura whispers back and then says, louder, ”Hi, Phil. Clint’s home.”

*****

It’s uncomfortable and awkward for days. Of course it is; Laura and Clint live in the memory of how things were before while Phil looks at them and sees strangers. He walks and talks like he’s a guest in their house even though his body clearly remembers the easy comfort of home. He gives Laura and Clint space all the while turning to Clint like a flower to the sun, confused why he does it.

If things were different—if they lived different lives—Clint could stay and help Phil to remember who he really is. But he can’t and they know it. So, even though they both know they’re pushing, Clint tries to spend time with Phil and it slowly gets better. Not like it used to be but better. 

But because they live the life they do, Clint’s stay has a deadline.

”It’s fucking Loki and his fucking scepter,” Clint mutters darkly in the silence of their bedroom. ”Stark’s planning something, Steve’s been on the edge ever since DC, and who the hell knows what Nick’s up to.”

”Do they know?” She asks, tracing her fingers across his stomach, drawing goosebumps in her wake.

”About Nick being alive? Stark doesn’t know which means Banner doesn’t know—I think— and I’m pretty sure no-one saw it necessary to tell Thor. But he’s a god, so who the hells know what sort of divine Google he has at his beck and call.”

Laura hums. ”You should bring them here someday.”

Clint turns to look at her. ”Are you sure? They can be pretty destructive.”

”Says The Incredible Hawkeye,” she retorts dryly.

”Pfft. I’m all reformed now.”

She snorts and pokes him on the shoulder and he retaliates, rolling her gently, mindful of her belly. It turns from playful to heated in moments and she ends up riding his face until she’s trembling all over, and later, she falls asleep on her side with Clint still inside of her.

Clint gets called back the following day. He manages to negotiate one more day, and they spend it walking around and having a movie night in front of the TV, eating way too much popcorn, and yelling at Nemo. Phil sits beside Clint and looks at him with his whole heart in his eyes. 

Cooper and Lila are used to their dad leaving at odd times so Clint tucks them in and explains he’ll be gone in the morning. When he walks into their bedroom with his eyes slightly red, Laura kisses him on both cheeks.

”You should be with Phil tonight,” she says softly. ”This is the best he’s been so far.” She doesn’t say, It might be the last time, because Clint knows.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head, huffs. ”You’re an amazing woman, you know that, right?”

”Of course I am. I’m married to you, aren’t I?” She quips with a grin. Then she presses her palm on his cheek and says, gently, ”Go on. I’ll see you off in the morning.”

*****

The morning is chilly and there’s a bit of mist on the ground as she walks Clint to his car. He looks more relaxed than he did when he came in and she’s glad. 

”Take care,” she says. ”Don’t do anything stupid.”

”Yes, ma’am,” he says and grins when she rolls her eyes. Then he kisses her and then her belly, climbs into his car, and drives off.

Laura stands there for a moment and watches the sunrise burn away the wisps of mist. She sniffles once, clears her throat, and lets out a long breath. She tucks away Laura Barton the wife and pulls on Laura the mother and friend, and turns to get inside. She has laundry to sort and breakfast to make and she might just as well start now that she’s up anyway.

The house is silent as she goes on with her chores. Yeah, she probably should put the kids to work more but she actually enjoys these quiet hours of early morning when she can just putter around alone with her thoughts, taking piles of fresh laundry with her. 

Cooper and Lila are still soundly asleep but Phil’s bedroom door squeaks even though she tries to open it as carefully as she can. In the bed, Phil stirs and turns to look at her.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispers. ”I’m just dropping off clean laundry. Clint just left, go back to sleep.”

Phil frowns and tilts his head and frowns.

Her stomach sinks. Oh, no. Please, not again. Not after today.

”I’m sorry, but do I know you?” Phil asks, genuinely confused.

THEN // PART 3

When Clint hit level four, he came home with a dossier that had a big red ’CLASSIFIED’ stamped on it.

”What’s this?” Laura asked as he walked into the kitchen after tucking Cooper in for the night. The dossier lay in the middle of the table, unopened.

”It’s a file on SHIELD,” Clint said. ”You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to but Nick—Director Fury—said it’s okay. I have the clearance to bring you in the know if I wanted.”

”Meaning?”

Clint sat down, rested his arms on the table, and started talking. After, she opened the dossier, read through the NDA form and signed it, and then took her time with the rest of the information. Insurance coverage, emergency contacts, protective custody program, security detail, legal department info, financial aid for special occasions, and a leaflet about a recreational weekend for non-SHIELD spouses she suspected was more like a support group.

”I have two questions: are you just a glorified assassin? And since when have you been on a first-name basis with the director of this organization?”

Clint winced at her first question. ”Uh…I don’t know? Maybe? But I try to make a point of never shooting people who don’t deserve it but sometimes there’s no choice. And about your second question, since he brought me in.” He tapped his finger on the copy of his intake form. ”He tracked me down and actually shot me in the leg to stop me. I was on the run, more like an animal than a man, but he believed in me, and…” he shrugged with a rueful smile. ”When he told me about what SHIELD was really about and asked me to sign in as a full-time agent, I made you the condition.”

”Me?” Laura asked, bewildered.

Clint nodded. ”Yeah. I told Nick that I’d join but only if he guaranteed your safety. You’d be out of SHIELD’s records and the only one who knows about you and Coop are Nick and assistant director Hill. It’s not that you’re a secret as such,” he said. ”It’s just—”

She shook her head. ”No, it’s okay, I get it. You have a dangerous job. Talking about us might get you or us into trouble.”

”I’m not saying I’m not proud of you. Hell, last week I sat in the bathroom stall for so long that Hopkins asked if I needed laxatives—all because of that video of Cooper you sent me!”

”Clint,” she said, placing her hand on his cheek. ”I understand. It’s okay.”

He let out a long huff of breath and then gathered her in a hug. ”I hate being away from you guys,” he mumbled into the crook of her neck. 

They stayed like that for a long while until Cooper screeched, way more awake than he was supposed to be. ”I got it,” Clint said and pecked a kiss on her cheek.

”Will I get a chance to meet this director?” Laura asked as he was almost out of the kitchen. 

Clint turned slowly, wearing a wide-eyed look on his face. 

***

Meeting Nicholas Fury might have been intimidating for someone who wasn’t Laura Barton, nee Sundvall. She’d faced a lot worse as a nurse and a one-eyed black man in a long leather coat wasn’t going to stare her down. 

”So,” she said, raising a brow. ”You’re his boss.”

”Yes,” Fury said. ”And you’re his wife.”

”Yes.” She gave him a once over and asked, ”Coffee?”

”Yes,” Fury said and sat down. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, ”Please.”

Laura nodded and plopped Cooper on Fury’s lap, then turned to make coffee, ignoring Clint by the door, watching them like they were a species he’d never met before.

Director Nicholas Fury was a lot less intimidating when he was holding a teething toddler who had a strange fascination with his eyepatch. He left with slobber on the lapel of his coat, a small package of cookies, and a gruff, ”You can call me Nick.”

They moved houses soon after—they finally found a perfect farm of their own—and Laura didn’t need to think too hard about where the sparkling purple tractor came from.

***

When Strike Team Delta happened, it changed things.

No, actually, things started to change when Clint was appointed to one, specific handler. In general, he was good to work with anyone—he was a professional, after all—but his personality clashed with the handlers who felt like enforcing the protocol was the most important thing in the handler/agent dynamic. Of course, Laura only heard Clint’s side of the story and she knew her husband well enough to know he could be a real pain if he so wished. This new handler had a different take on the missions and it resulted in one of the rare times Clint talked about his work. 

”Not that the others aren’t good but…Coulson just gets me,” he said with wide eyes. ”He lets me do my thing because he trusts that I actually know what I’m doing. He’s more interested in getting shit done than dictating how to proceed.”

”That’s good to hear, honey,” Laura said mildly, stirring the stew. ”Also, language.”

”Oh, right. Sorry,” Clint whispered and pressed a kiss on top of Cooper’s head while cradling his son in his arms.

When Clint made a choice in the field that ended up in a shitshow and a temporary demotion back to a probationary agent, he was way more subdued than Laura had seen in a long, long while. She tried to ask him about it but he refused to say more than he’d betrayed Coulson’s trust and was now paying for it. She would later learn Clint had refused to take a shot and decided to take the mark in without consulting Coulson first and even though it would prove to be the right decision, it had put a strain on their relationship.

He changed after that. Clint had always been passionate about his work but he turned more focused and determined, almost like someone had taken the time to temper him and then clear out the excess debris. He slowly morphed from an expert to a sharpened tool honed to perfection and, consequently, something infinitely more dangerous. As goofy as he was at home, it still was a thing Laura recognized. 

Nick Fury had seen something in an angry boy, SHIELD had taken that boy and made him into a professional, but Strike Team Delta made him shine. 

So, in a way, it didn’t come as a surprise when Clint tentatively asked if Laura would like to meet Natasha. ”You don’t have to because she’s the reason I got benched last year,” he said. ”But Laura, she’s…she’s like the little sister I didn’t know I wanted!”

It was the first time Clint asked her to meet anyone from work and she trusted he knew what he was doing. She didn’t know what she expected when they finally met but a tiny woman with flaming red hair and a hesitant smile wasn’t it. Her green eyes were sharp and checked the kitchen with practiced ease Laura remembered from the early days with Clint. She was a bit taken aback, though, when she shoved at her a brown paper bag filled with piping hot pastries.

”They’re pierogi,” she said in a soft voice, holding herself stiffly despite appearing casual. ”Russian meat pies. You might like them.”

She was polite and friendly and so starved for genuine human contact that Laura decided there and then to adopt her. Sure, it was easier said than done because even with her limited knowledge and understanding, she sensed Natasha had trust issues way worse than anything Clint had ever let her see. She didn’t let that hinder her, though.

And Natasha returned, first for short visits with Clint, politely staying in the kitchen and watching Cooper with wide eyes and barely daring to breathe when Clint set him on her lap. Then she stayed overnight, silently watching Twin Peaks rerun with Laura, and clutching the lopsided quilt covering her sprained knee. And then, one day, Laura realized she had the whole morning for herself while Clint was puttering around in the barn and Tasha was reading Dostojevski in Russian to a completely enthralled Cooper.

If someone had said to her years ago that one of her closest friends was a reformed Russian assassin slash spy, she would’ve checked their bloodwork for alcohol and drugs. Now, she just smiled and enjoyed her well-earned bubble bath. 

***

In retrospect, the Budapest mission was just a conclusion to something that had started brewing a while ago.

Cooper was three and she was entering the third semester with their second child when she got the call. She listened with unseeing eyes, hung up, and rested her forehead on the kitchen wall for a moment, and just breathed. 

I can’t do this alone. I can’t. I won’t. I. Will. Not.

She nearly growled as she pushed herself to move, picked up her bag and packed Cooper in his car seat, and then drove to the hospital with a grim-faced focus. She distantly recognized she probably shouldn’t have been driving at all but…how else was she supposed to get to her husband?

A bald man in a suit met her at the ER door showed her his badge, and told her where to go and, ”Don’t worry about the car, Ma’am, I’ll park it and deliver the keys to you shortly.” She made it to the elevators and then Tasha was there, her eyes hard but her mouth drawn in an easy smile as she offered to take Cooper for ice cream. She gripped her shoulder for a split moment, probably drawing just as much comfort from Laura as she offered back, and then she was gone and Laura was in the elevator alone.

Entering a hospital room felt wildly different now when she was family instead of a nurse but she forced herself to go through the routine of checking the status of Clint’s IV drip, his breathing, his facial expression. The nurse in her told her he looked pretty good while the wife in her was ready to burst into tears.

Almost as soon as she entered, an unassuming middle-aged man in a well-cut suit stood up from the chair beside the bed and turned to face her. For a split moment, she could’ve sworn he was close to tears but when he blinked and took a step closer, it was gone.

”Mrs. Barton?” He said, offering his hand. ”I’m Agent Phillip Coulson, Clint and Natasha’s primary Handler. I’m so very sorry to meet like this.”

She nodded and accepted his hand. His grip was warm and strong and, before she even realized, Agent Coulson had helped her to sit down on the chair he’d just vacated.

”He was badly injured,” Agent Coulson said quietly. ”But he’s stable now. He’s been in and out of consciousness for several hours but the doctors are expecting him to wake up any time now. If you wish for a full medical report, I’ll ask the doctor to stop by when she’s available.” He fell silent for a moment and then added, softer, ”He hasn’t been left alone, Mrs. Barton. Either I or Natasha has been by his side the whole time.”

”Thank you,” she said, shifted, and grunted. 

Agent Coulson’s eyes darted to her belly and then back to her eyes. ”Would you like something to drink or eat? Tea? Soda? They serve decent fruit salad in the cafeteria.”

”That would be nice, thank you,” she said, her attention already on Clint. She barely noticed when the Agent left the room.

A short moment later, Clint shifted and his eyelids fluttered but he didn’t open his eyes.

”Clint?” She asked and leaned forward to squeeze his hand.

”Phil? Please, don’t leave me,” Clint pleaded in a hoarse and pained voice, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t heard him in a long, long time. 

For a moment, she froze. Oh, shit, she thought and swallowed. ”No, honey, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”

Sometime later, after Agent Coulson—no, Phil—returned carrying a tray with a couple of sodas, a bag of trail mix, a fruit salad, and a large takeaway cup of tea. He fussed with the bedside table, probably thinking he was being subtle about the anguished look he snuck at Clint from the corner of his eye.

”Phil?” Laura asked quietly when the agent was about to leave.

He turned around, surprise plain on his face. 

”I love my husband,” she said.

Agent Coulson flinched but didn’t avert his eyes. ”I know that, Mrs. Barton. And he loves you very, very much.”

”Oh, I have no doubt of that.”

Agent Coulson hesitated for a moment. ”I would never do anything to compromise my agents,” he started, sounding earnest, resigned, and tired to the bone at the same time. ”If you’d rather have him working under some other Handler, I can—”

”I said, I love my husband,” Laura interrupted. ”And by that, I mean that I love all of him.” She gave him a long, assessing look. ”How long?”

”Years,” Agent Coulson answered, not bothering to pretend he didn’t understand what she meant. 

She nodded. ”Has he ever told you about how our relationship works?” 

He shook his head.

The baby chose that moment to practice cartwheels and she hissed, rubbing her side. ”Try to get some rest, Agent Phillip Coulson,” she said, softly. ”We’ll probably need to talk later.”

He gave her a long look before he bade her goodbye and left, softly closing the door behind him.

She turned to look at Clint and sighed. ”Oh, Clint. Now, what?”

NOW

”Good morning, Ma’am,” Clint’s gruff voice calls from the other side of the line. ”Is this Brambly Hedge?”

For a moment, Laura can’t breathe. Now? Really? With everything else going on? Then she presses her lips together in a tight line, squares her shoulders, and says, ”Yes. This is Brambly Hedge. How long?” She asks as she walks into the kitchen, opens the side cabinet with the fingerprint lock, and activates the second security grid.

”Two hours, two and a half, tops,” Clint says. His voice sounds different when he’s on a mission mode. She likes it.

”Injuries?” She asks, running through her mental inventory of their extensive first-aid kit.

”Mostly mental shock, no physical injuries.”

”Okay,” she says and then adds, slightly more hesitant, ”The kids?”

Clint sighs. She can hear nothing more than the low thrum of the plane and it worries her. As far as she knows, his team is usually very, very loud. ”Let them sleep.”

”Okay. Fly safe.”

”Will do. Quinjet out, see you soon.”

The line goes quiet and for a moment, Laura leans against the wall and wonders what the hell her life has turned into.

Brambly Hedge…after all these years, Clint is in a situation where he needs to use their home as a safehouse. The farm might not look like it but if needed, they can turn it into a fortress, one of the conditions Clint set when they negotiated their living arrangements. Laura could do with a bit less of Jason Bourne but she knows Clint takes their safety seriously. And yes, after learning what he really did for a living, she can’t complain.

She glances at her clock, giving a long look at the green dot blinking on the left side of the screen. The security grid will alarm her when the Quinjet lands and then it would take them less than half an hour to walk to the house so she has more than ample time. There isn’t much she can do before that anyway.

”What’s wrong?” Phil’s voice is sharper than she’s heard in a long, long time. She turns around and Phil’s eyes snap on the blinking light on her wrist. ”Laura?” He asks without moving from the doorway. The look in his eyes is clear and the way his eyes take in the room reminds her of the way he used to be.

”Phil—”

”You’re tense. You just had a phone call and you activated the security grid. What’s going on?”

Laura can’t help herself. ”Do you remember who you are? Do you remember where you are?”

”I—” Phil stops and blinks. ”I have an idea,” he says slowly. ”I know this place is as good as home to me. I know you’re important, to me and to—” He frowns. ”I know where the perimeter of the farm and I know seventeen different ways to kill a human with a pair of tongs. And that’s disturbing.”

”Trust me, that’s normal around here,” Laura snorts. ”And—”

The alarm on her watch goes off and she freezes. Then her watch goes silent and beeps a short code.

Well, shit. There’s only one who would use that particular code.

”Come on,” she says. ”It seems we have another visitor.”

***

When the team finally stumbles in, Laura’s heart clenches. The Avengers look lost and almost scared even though they cover it well. Clint shoos them in and introduces her but Laura ignores it all because Natasha looks like she’s about to fall apart. The look in her eyes reminds Laura of how she was back when they first met and it’s a look she never, ever wants to see in her eyes. So, she takes the matters into her own hands and wraps her in a tight hug.

”You’re safe here,” she whispers. ”You’re home. You’re safe.”

She pays no heed to the stunned silence and concentrates on holding on to one of the most dangerous people in the whole world as she quietly breaks down and slowly gathers her frayed pieces back together again.

”Um,” someone says slowly. ”This is an agent?”

Laura turns her head a bit so that she can take in the room and meets Tony Stark’s wide eyes. Cooper and Lila choose that moment to run down the stairs and jump their dad and Tony Stark says in the same, baffled voice, ”And…these are smaller agents? Really, Hawkass?”

”Ass is a bad word,” Lila says from Clint’s arms.

”That’s right,” Captain America says, a slight frown on his face. ”But sometimes bad words are the only way to really say what’s in your mind—Hawkeye, what the hell?”

Tony Stark mock-gasps and presses a hand on his chest. ”Language, Captain!”

It earns eye-rolls and huffs which Laura guesses is exactly why he did it. The slightest tremor runs down Natasha’s back and then she straightens up. She doesn’t say anything but she doesn’t have to. Laura sees it in her eyes.

”You guys must be hungry,” she says and inclines her head. ”Go wash up and then come back down.” She turns and walks into the kitchen, feeling the stares on the back of her neck, and starts putting together a serving that will probably empty their pantry. She’ll have to remember to put up a grocery list later.

After some time, Clint comes back and putters around her as he loads the coffee maker. He bends down and presses a kiss on her cheek. ”Thanks,” he whispers. 

”Don’t thank me yet,” she says dryly. ”Nick’s here. He wants to talk to Stark first.”

”Fuck,” Clint sighs. ”Okay. I’ll ask him to take a look at the tractor after breakfast.” He pauses for a moment and tilts his head just slightly. ”Where’s Phil?”

”He’s with Nick,” Laura says. ”I thought it would be for the best.” She nods at the fridge and Clint hands her a carton of eggs. ”He seemed more lucid than in a long, long while.”

”It doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Clint says quietly.

Laura pauses, turns to him, and presses a hand on his cheek. ”I know that,” she says. ”But it’s still progress. He’s still in there, somewhere, I could see that. And he knows that, too.” She shrugs and turns back to the stove. ”Who knows, perhaps meeting Stark with trigger back his memories—if only to taze him to submission.”

Clint snorts and she grins.

They work in companionable silence, Laura making scrambled eggs and sausages, Clint slicing up two sourdough loaves to eat with butter and cheese they buy in bulk from the farm next town over. Some time later, there are steps in the stairwell and the Avengers start slowly file into the kitchen. They look different now with damp hair and clothes that don’t fit quite right but they also look more human. But while the lost look is mostly gone from their eyes, it still dances in the tired quirk of their lips and in the way their hands shake.

That and the PTSD Laura is sure everyone has.

”Coffee, anyone?” Laura asks. ”The tea in the pot is your favorite, Natasha. Dig in, guys, I know you must be hungry.” 

”You’re in my spot,” Lila says to Thor.

The whole team turns to look at the small girl staring narrow-eyed up at Thor who blinks and then lets out a somber sound. ”My apologies, young Miss. Is there a way I can make it up to you?”

Lila tilts her head. ”If I can eat from your lap,” she says haughtily.

”But of course!” Thor declares and picks her up. She proceeds to point regally at what she wants to eat and Thor, listening attentively and nodding at appropriate places, serves her breakfast.

Laura shares a look with Clint and rolls her eyes.

***

It’s a good thing Phil decides to walk in with Fury so late that the kids are already in bed because Stark stares for a moment and then hisses a furious, ”What the ever-loving fuck?” 

”It seems that the rumors about my death have greatly exaggerated,” Phil says calmly but the thin veneer of self-control doesn’t fool Laura. Phil is nervous and not nearly as at ease as he seems because he doesn’t actually know any of these people in the living room.

”You were dead! We mourned you—Pepper cried!” Stark says. ”How am I supposed to tell her you’ve been alive this whole time?”

”You’re not even together anymore,” Dr. Banner points out. ”You don’t have to tell her.”

”That’s not the point!” Stark yells, flailing his hands and then scowls as everyone hushes him. ”That’s not the point,” he repeats, low and furious. ”We should’ve been told. We deserved to know.”

”Did you?” Nick asks calmly. ”Why?”

Stark shoots him a betrayed look and says nothing.

”In all honesty, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Phil says. ”I haven’t been well—”

”Phil, you don’t have to,” Laura interrupts him gently.

”I know,” Phil says. ”It’s my choice.”

From the corner of her eye, Laura sees Stark stare at Phil and silently mouth his name like it’s a revelation.

”Truth is, I died. Several times. I have spent the last…how long?” He asks Laura.

”Two years.”

”Two years here, recovering. And it hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

”Wait,” Stark says, his eyes darting between Laura and Phil. ”Wait. Do you mean…Are you actually her husband? No, that’s still Hawkass—lady, you have a man to each arm? Good for you!”

”Idiot,” Natasha mutters. She opens her mouth and then glances up at Laura. She shrugs and looks at Clint and raises a brow. She’s fine with their relationship being outed to Clint’s team but it’s really up to Clint. 

”What?” Stark asks, indignant. ”What else could it be?”

”Me,” Clint says with a wry smile. ”I’m the one with two partners.”

”Yeah, right,” Stark snorts and then sobers up. ”Wait, you’re serious?”

Thor lets out a hum and nods. ”In Asgard, this is not uncommon. Warriors sometimes have a shield-husband and a shield-wife. Congratulations, Hawkeye.”

”And you knew about this?” Rogers asks Nick.  

He snorts. ”Why the fuck do you think I brought him here?”

”Oh, but you didn’t ’bring’ him anywhere,” Laura points out calmly. ”You called me and begged us to take him in because, and I quote, ’Our home is the stablest and most wholesome place you know.’ ”

”Really?” Clint asks. ”Why can’t I remember that?”

”You were busy getting over the shock of him being alive, honey,” Laura says. ”I took care of it.”

”Ohh…now I see it,” Stark says and waggles a finger at Clint. ”You have a type, don’t you?”

The snort Phil lets out is the best thing Laura has heard in a while.

THEN // PART 4

Clint’s recovery took time and, as usual, he was a terrible patient. Laura figured it had something to do with his deeply ingrained belief that if he couldn’t work, he was useless. He’d never said it aloud, of course, but Laura saw the forced cheerfulness and the way he nearly vibrated out of his skin with the need for doing something, anything, just to prove he still could contribute. He told Laura that Tasha and Coulson kept him busy with long past due paperwork and training programs plans but it was the long hours near the end of the visiting hours that got him restless.

Speaking of Agent Coulson… Laura had hoped to see him again but the man was suspiciously efficient in dodging her. Was it anyone else, she’d thought he was avoiding her because he was too afraid to confront her but that just felt wrong. Her gut told her that Coulson was a man who faced difficulties with his head held high and never backed away from a fight. Of course, being in love with a man who not only was his direct subordinate but also married with kids, wasn’t probably something he usually had to deal with.

And Clint missed him. Laura could see it in the hopeful look in his eyes every time someone knocked on the door and the way his shoulder sagged ever so slightly when the door admitted Tasha with Cooper, Dr. Shumway, or at one occasion, Nick Fury himself. 

And because Laura was many things but not cruel, she decided to bite the bullet and ask.

***

”Tell me about him,” she said one day. 

Clint had just gotten his leg out of traction and he was finally on solid food, and his physical therapy session earlier that day had left him exhausted and irritable. In other words, he was already somewhat out of it and Laura wasn’t afraid to play dirty.

”Tell you about who?” He snapped.

”Don’t get cute. You know who.”

Clint sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. ”There’s nothing to tell.”

”See, that right there? That’s a lie.”

Clint pressed his lips together in a tight line and breathed in through his nose, a steady, calculated act. ”I haven’t slept with him,” he said tightly.

”Oh, I know. Also, not what I asked.”

”I don’t know what to tell you!” Clint almost yelled, throwing his hands wide. The motion pulled at the barely healed bones and tissue, making him wince and hiss in pain.

”Please, honey, how stupid do you think I am?” Laura asked, voice mild and a brow raised in a high arc. ”You called out for him when you were in and out of consciousness.”

Clint’s face did something complicated. ”Laura, I—”

”How long have you been in love with him?”

”I’ve never— How did you—”

Laura sighed and shook her head. ”Remember what you promised me? If you want someone else, you talk to me. Clint, you stopped asking permission to let out steam ages ago! You said you ’didn’t feel like it.’”

”I don’t!” Clint argued back. ”I… this isn’t…” He fell silent and whispered under his breath, ”Shit.”

”Pretty much, yes,” Laura said. ”So, how long?”

Clint closed his eyes and swallowed. ”I’m not sure. Years, I guess. He’s…” He fell silent, shook his head slowly from side to side, and let out a hollow chuckle. ”He’s amazing.”

”He said something along the same lines,” Laura said quietly.

”You asked him?” Clint squeaked. ”Oh, hell, of course you did. I’m surprised you didn’t have my balls already.”

”I need them in case I want that third kid,” Laura said mildly. When Clint gave her a wide-eyed look, she leaned back in her chair and winced at the Braxton-Hicks contractions. ”Our arrangement works because I trust you to talk to me and you trust me to set the boundaries if need be. But this…this is something we haven’t faced before. Sex with an outsider I can handle, but love?”

”I love you!”

”I know. But you also love him. And he loves you so much that he was willing to let you go even though the mere suggestion clearly hurt.”

”He what?” Clint asked, eyes wide with shock. ”He can’t— I won’t let him!”

”Honey, I don’t think it’s your decision.”

Clint fell silent, biting his lip. ”I don’t want to lose him,” he finally said. ”But if it means I can keep you…”

”That wasn’t an ultimatum, Clint,” Laura said sharply. ”You should know me better than that. I asked you to tell me about him, not to choose between us.”

Clint blinked several times and shuffled, visibly uncomfortable. He probably wanted to be anywhere but there but Laura wanted to have this conversation right here, right now. She wanted to clear the air and she needed to do it when he couldn’t hide from her.

”Remember when I told you about the circus? There’s a reason why I don’t trust men with a certain kind of power over me. And you know I swing both ways but there’s a reason why I always asked permission to be with a woman, never a man.”

Laura let out a noncommittal hum. Clint’s sexuality had never been a problem for her and while he’d never explicitly said anything, she’d guessed a long time ago that the abuse he’d been through had been at least partially sexual.

”He makes me feel safe. I trust him, not just with my missions but with me. 

”You are my heart, Laura. You are my heart and home, the reason why I want to be better, to become better. But Phil gives me the sense of…” He paused for a moment, searching for words. ”With him, I know I can let go and he’ll always catch me.”

Clint pressed his hands together and made a small, helpless move with his shoulders as if he wasn’t sure whether to shrug or try to curl in to appear smaller. ”I love you, Laura. But I love him, too. I’m sorry.”

”For what?” She went for a joke but it fell flat. ”No, I’m…that was—I’m sorry. You were honest with me so I should be honest with you, too.” She closed his eyes, took a deliberate breath, and slowly let it out. ”Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. ”I know it couldn’t have been easy.” She opened her eyes and stared at her hands resting gently on her belly. ”This is way out of my comfort zone.”

”I know. I’m sorry.” Clint’s voice was quiet, subdued.

She shook her head and faced him, relieved when he didn’t try to evade her eyes. ”You don’t have to apologize for your feelings and you sure as hell don’t need to apologize for telling me. Clint, we can’t help our feelings. They just…are.” She paused for a moment. ”But we can choose our actions.”

”I know that. I’m not going to do anything,” he said.

”Clint, I wasn’t just talking about you. Honey, Cooper is three and I’m pregnant with our second kid. You just told me you’re in love with your highly competent handler who is not only a consummate professional but since I’m not blind, I can see he’s also a very attractive man. You can’t help loving him, I can’t help feeling frumpy, tired, and jealous.” She pushed herself up from the chair and took a couple of steps to Clint’s bedside. 

”What I mean is that I need to think about this. And you need to give me the time and space to do it. Okay?”

Clint swallowed. ”Yeah. Okay.”

She gave him a small smile and bent down to kiss him, grunting slightly as the baby decided to kick her in the kidney.

”I love you,” Clint said as she turned to go.

”I know,” she said sagely and quirked her lips as Clint snorted.

***

Clint did like she asked: he gave her space. He concentrated on his physical therapy and on getting released from the medical. Laura finished getting the nursery ready and packed her hospital bag ready to grab on their way out. And she googled polyamory and open marriages, educated herself on triads and committed relationships between more than two people. She learned of relationships gone well and relationships burned so badly that the ashes poisoned everything around them. And she scrubbed the floors because as difficult it was with her belly on the way, she needed to do something with her hands so that her mind would be at peace.

And in the middle of it all, she thought. Back and forth, pros and cons. Could she do this? Could she open her life, her home and, in a sense, her heart to someone new while still holding on to Clint and their kids? With their previous arrangements, she’d never needed to think about that: letting out steam and fucking someone wasn’t the same as loving several people. 

It wouldn’t be just sex. 

It would be long-term. A relationship.

”Do you want to talk about it?” Tasha asked one day. Clint had been released a week before and was taking a nap with Cooper after his daily physical. Tasha sat on the couch with Laura’s feet on her lap, massaging her soles with a strength that seemed disproportionate to her size. If you didn’t know who she was, of course.

”I don’t know,” Laura sighed.

”We thought we’d lost Clint,” Tasha said softly after some while. Her head was bowed, her red curls fanned over her face so that Laura couldn’t see the look in her eyes. ”The intel was bad, our covers were blown. Clint gave out his position to give us the chance to get out and the results were…well. You saw yourself.

”We had orders to abort but Phil would have none of it. He told them kindly to fuck off and went after Clint himself.” She paused and raised her head, giving Laura a serious look. ”He’s unflappable. Nothing phases him. Ever. This is the only time I’ve seen him so…distraught.”

”How long have you known?” Laura asked. Tasha’s hands froze and she reached out to touch her arm. ”I’m not…I don’t know, blaming for anything. I’m just asking.”

She gave her an odd, fragile smile and went back to rubbing her feet. ”Clint is…easily  impressed. He has a competency kink a mile wide and he’s not afraid to show it. He adores people who know what they’re doing, and it doesn’t matter what it is: baking, fucking, shooting, singing… But you already know this. He isn’t that easily impressed with himself, just as him, as Clint. He knows his worth as a Specialist and as an Agent but just as him?

”You know all his quirks. You understand where he comes from and why he has the triggers he has, even though you might not know the details. You see him and you still love him. He’s learned to accept that from you because you’ve known him for quite some time and you share a life together. And he’s slowly learning to accept that from me because we…” her voice trailed away and she shrugged. ”We’ve walked the same path. But Phil?

”He’s what Clint would call a decent person. He’s educated, he’s an Army Ranger, he has his life together. Well, his life is mostly his work but…you know what I mean. To Clint, respect from someone like Phil isn’t something he thought he’d ever get. Not as just Clint.” She gently tapped her ankle and leaned back on the couch, looking her in the eye.

”Clint’s been in love with Phil for years, although he probably doesn’t understand it yet. I saw it as soon as he took me in. Phil on the other hand…he keeps his feelings very close to his chest. He loves his work and takes very good care of his agents and I’m sure he was devastated when he realized his feelings went deeper than just caring for an agent under his command. But he loves the way he works: with quiet determination and drive, his focus crystal clear. And right now his focus is to make sure Clint heals properly. 

”And there’s one thing I can swear: no matter what you decide, he will respect it.”

Laura chuckled, the sound slightly wet, and blew a strand of hair off her forehead. ”You make it sound like he’s perfect.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. ”Oh, please! Clint might think he’s the best thing on earth after you guys but—”

As she launched into an explanation on all the things that were wrong about the Great Agent Coulson—things like the way he rolled his socks or how he could be meticulous about the mission reports not because he loved paperwork but because he absolutely hated it—Laura watched Tasha’s face. She’d relaxed again, her minor panic about doing something that would damage their friendship put aside, and now her eyes were bright and she was wearing a mischievous grin. It was more than obvious that she genuinely liked and respected Phil, no matter what her personal opinion on the feelings between him and Clint was.

Laura knew better than to ask her opinion on what to decide because even though she was her friend, her loyalty had been with Clint since the day he refused to terminate her. But looking at her and listening to her talking about…Phil helped her to breathe easier.

***

The next morning, she spent a long while just watching Clint’s face as he slept. He’d never been conveniently handsome, being more of the ruggedly handsome type, but in his sleep, his lines went slack and his face looked younger. More relaxed. She watched him, traced his brow with her eyes, and counted the spatter of scars on his shoulder. She didn’t realize he was watching him until she finally drew her eyes back to his face and met his gaze.

”Hi,” he whispered.

She swallowed and drew breath. ”Okay,” she said in a level voice and looked Clint straight in the eye. ”I’m willing to try.”

____________________________________________________________________

NOW

Seeing Clint off is always hard but seeing him and his team off to face an insane AI that was pretty much all Tony Stark’s worst traits come to life is harder. Dealing with the last weeks of her pregnancy at the same time is the worst. But it’s Clint’s work, it’s his other family.

”They’re a mess,” Clint had said as they watched from their bedroom window Rogers and Stark do their weird mating dance in the yard (Because seriously? Ripping a log in half with your bare hands…they had it bad.). ”But they’re my mess.”

”I know, honey,” Laura had answered, trailing her fingers along the patch of newly-regenerated skin on Clint’s side.  It was supposed to be indistinguishable from the real thing but she’d felt the difference. ”Just try to come home in one piece.”

”I’ll try,” he’d said.

It’s the most she could hope for. They both know how dangerous his work is and after New York, it’s gotten even more dangerous because apparently, there are aliens now. Aliens who want to attack Earth.

So, she kisses her husband goodbye, hugs Natasha as tight as her belly lets her, and shoos the others out to give Clint a moment with Phil. They grip each other like two drowning men and Laura isn’t sure whether to roll her eyes or to keep her heart from breaking. She decides to brew tea instead.

For some reason, their TV has way more channels than it did before the team’s visit and it takes Laura about fifteen seconds to realize why. She sighs and sends Clint a text asking if there’s anything she should be worried about.

>Tony says he upgraded our coffee machine. I don’t know what it means. Don’t touch it, okay?

A short moment later, she gets another text.

>I wish Tony and Steve would just fuck already. This level of mutual, ridiculously aggressive pining is just exhausting.

She snorts.

<So, what’s stopping them?

>Apparently Steve is too honorable to fuck Tony while he’s still in this weird on/off thing with Pepper. Should I give him pointers? Or should I sic him to Phil?

<Honey, if you want Phil to spontaneously combust, by all means. 

>Shit. True.

Her phone stays silent after that and she goes on with her day. Having two young kids and a third on the way keeps her busy but it does nothing to the nagging worry permanently living in the back of her head. 

***

News from Sokovia is sparse. The backslash from the complete catastrophe in South Africa does little to nothing to help with the Avengers’ public image which is completely understandable. A group of superpowers individuals wreak havoc and people should just bow and thank them? That’s not how things work. 

”They have a lot of work ahead of them,” Phil says mildly.

They sit on the couch with Laura’s feet on Phil’s lap as he rubs her swollen ankles with peppermint oil. His hands feel the same as they’ve always felt: strong, sure, gentle. He watches the TV with a small furrow between his brows and Laura watches him, wondering if they’ll finally get to keep him or if he’ll slip away from them like he’s done so many times already.

She hopes for the former and fears it’ll be the latter anyway.

But she’s also sure something’s different this time. Phil seems more collected, like his scattered, frayed parts have finally found a way to each other to build him up from scratch.

”Yeah,” she sighs and tips her head back. ”And not only because the team’s filled with too many people with too big egos.”

Phil lets out a noncommittal sound and digs his fingers into the arch of her left foot and she isn’t sure whether to cry from relief or to kick him.

”Do you have any idea what they’re going to do after?” She asks through gritted teeth.

Phil gives her a look over his glasses. ”They either have to change or break up.”

”Are you talking about Stark and Rogers or the team?” She asks, amused.

His lips quirk for a moment and then he sobers up. ”The fall of SHIELD left a power vacuum behind. There are way too many people with little to no understanding of how the universe works eager to seize power. If the Avengers want to keep the world safe, they’ll need to change. If they can’t…” He lets out a long sigh. ”I don’t know.”

She tilts her head. ”What about you?” She asks.

”What about me?” Phil asks without looking at her.

She nudges him with her foot. ”Don’t play coy with me, Phil. You know what.”

His hands stop and rest on her ankles, warm, grounding. Steady. ”I honestly don’t know,” Phil says slowly. ”I feel more like myself than I’ve felt in a long, long time but is it enough? I don’t think so. What if I lose my memories at a critical moment? What if I wake up one day and don’t know who I am?”

”Phil,” she says gently. ”I didn’t mean you’d take up the mantle of the Director of SHIELD. They have people for that—I know for sure that Hill is doing a fantastic job terrifying everyone into submission. I just wondered…” Her voice trails away and she gives a helpless, small shrug.

Phil turns to look at her. ”I know,” he says with a small smile. ”And I appreciate it.”

It’s not much but it’ll do for now.

***

The avengers win, if winning means losing people and coming home with fresh grief wrapped around your heart. Natasha wears her mask and only lets it fall once when she hugs Laura so tight it leaves bruises. Clint brings home yet another young woman who has been forced to grow up too fast and with too many bleeding wounds. She walks around the house like a ghost and sits on the porch staring into nothing. Laura offers her tea and asks for her help with the horses. Pumpernickel has gotten only meaner with age but something about the mare resonates with Wanda and it doesn’t take long for her to start spending her days in the paddock. Clint teaches her to ride and they all pretend they don’t see how she cries into the mare’s neck until it’s wet with tears.

It’s a process.

Stark builds a whole new compound for the team and offers to upgrade the farm too. Laura tells him that if he as much as touches their property again without permission, she’ll geld him in his sleep. She’s too busy being grumpy and hissing at the contractions to pay attention to the starstruck look on Stark’s face.

Nathaniel Pietro Barton arrives in the world with the speed honoring his namesake and Clint doesn’t make it to the birth because he’s on the other side of the world on some shady operation Fury sent him. Laura grips Phil’s hand with a force that makes him wince and the delivery room staff compliments him for being there for his wife. They don’t bother correcting them because it really isn’t any of their business and they have more important things to do.

”I’m siccing him to you from now on,” Laura croaks when it’s done and Nathaniel sleeps against her chest. ”This is the last time I’m going through this. I mean, making them is sure as hell nice but getting them out…” she shudders.

Phil’s lips quirk. ”Well, I guess I can live with the sacrifice,” he says, staring at the screen of his camera. He’s been taking photos and videos since the moment Laura said it’s okay and he transferring them to a secure server Clint can log in when he gets to the safehouse. 

”We’re thinking about vasectomy,” Laura says trailing a finger along Nathaniel’s downy brow.

”You and the baby?” Phil asks, amused.

Laura gives her a flat look and gets a raised brown in return. It still feels fragile, this thing between them. She doesn’t let herself trust, not just yet, because she still doesn’t know if Phil will be yanked away from them someday now. But she loves the easy banter that reminds her of the way they used to be.

But perhaps soon, she’ll have the courage to believe.

***

In all honesty, she hadn’t realized what a treasure a triad could be with an infant because there’s always a babysitter in the house and it’s glorious. Clint takes Nate when Laura and Phil go to a concert and have dinner in a fancy French restaurant after and when Clint and Laura need some time together, Phil straps Nate in a baby carrier and goes for a long walk. And when Laura is in desperate need of some alone time in the house, Phil and Clint load all kids to the truck and drive 75 minutes to the slightly-bigger-town for ice cream and a visit at an endearingly worn traveling circus. They come back with manic smiles and cotton candy on their cheeks.

It’s so good that Laura probably should’ve guessed it wouldn’t last.

***

After Clint wrings four orgasms out of her and then fucks her slowly until she feels like the world has turned into a sticky syrup where her thoughts are shrouded in a golden hue and everything feels so very heavy, they rest for some time, just enjoying the closeness. 

”Hello Hawkeye,” she whispers and presses a kiss on Clint’s chest.

Clint hums. ”Hello, the most beautiful woman in the whole world,” he murmurs back. 

”I can’t feel my legs,” she mumbles with an almost giddy smile.

”Oops?” Clint grins, not sounding even a bit apologetic.

”Hey, I’m not complaining. Just stating a fact.”

”Mm…facts are sexy.”

She lifts her head and snorts. ”You know, sometimes the things you say aren’t even remotely sexy.”

”On my and Phil’s behalf, I object,” Clint says haughtily.

”Speaking of Phil, we probably should head down soon,” Laura says.

They drag themselves out of the bed and make it downstairs, pausing in the stairs to make out like teenagers. From the window, Laura sees Phil gently swaying in the porch swing, holding Nate with his eyes closed.

”He looks good,” Clint says quietly.

”Yeah,” Laura says and shoots a fond look at him. Clint’s eyes are soft and there’s a peculiar look on his face, the kind she’s learned is reserved to Phil only. ”Go on, wake him up. Coop and Lila will be back soon.”

She loads the coffee maker and then turns around, leans against the counter, and watches her husband and his lover with a gentle smile tugging her lips.

Then she sees how Phil tilts his head, confused.

”Oh no, no no, no please, not again,” she whispers as Clint freezes.

And then she meets his wide, terrified eyes through the window.

Phil has lost his memories again.

THEN // PART 5

Trying was easier said than done.

It took Clint and Phil some time to finish dancing around each other, mostly because of Phil. He was hesitant to initiate anything, first because he was keenly aware of the power imbalance between him and Clint, and then because he didn’t quite believe Laura had said yes. Add in Clint’s recovery, Laura’s pregnancy, and finally Lila’s birth, which was quite a mess. Laura didn’t remember much of it but she’d later learn it had been Phil who had kept his calm and grounded Clint while Laura had been hurried off due to massive blood loss. 

After, Phil insisted on meeting several times with all three of them, painfully polite and respectful but adamant about making sure they were on the same page. 

So, Clint and Phil went out for several dates and Clint ended up spending a couple of nights with Phil. Laura used that chance to get some quality time with Tasha. Or rather she’d get quality time with Cooper while Tasha sat in the rocking chair with Lila bundled in a kangaroo swap, her hands gently resting on the baby.

”This…isn’t something I want for myself,” she once said when Laura sat on the couch with a mug of tea and raised her brow. ”But it’s nice to know my hands aren’t just for killing.”

Laura didn’t say anything but took a picture of Tasha when she closed her eyes and hummed a Russian lullaby and showed it to Clint when he came home.

Clint was…Laura didn’t want to use the term glowing because it was slightly too harlequin-esque, but he was somehow lighter. Perhaps it had something to do with Phil returning his feelings. Or perhaps it was the fact that he finally had the healing, healthy, and loving sexual experience with a man. Or perhaps he just felt his family was complete.

And Phil? Laura wasn’t sure. He was still somewhat reserved and careful as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed in Laura’s space. He was and he visited often but there was still something…not missing but not quite there, either.

***

”I’d like to take you out for dinner,” Phil said one day. ”Please.”

Laura quirked a brow. ”Not that you aren’t an attractive man, Phil, but this whole dating thing is between you and Clint.”

Phil closed his eyes and huffed. ”Ah, no. Thank you for the compliment, Laura, but I wasn’t talking about a date. But I think it would do us all good that we take some time for just the two of us.”

She pursed her lips. ”I wouldn’t say no for a hot meal someone else made for a change,” she said. 

And that’s how she ended up at a corner booth of Niccolo’s, in adult clothes and a glass of excellent red in her hand.

They made polite, witty small talk through the first course, talking about the small art gallery Phil had found a couple of blocks from the HQ and what the hell Kieslowski’s Color trilogy really was about. After finishing her almost divine white truffle cannelloni, Laura sipped her wine and then set the glass on the table, waiting. Phil noticed, of course, patted the side of his mouth with his napkin and gave her a small smile.

”What are you getting out of this?” He asked, done with the small talk. His voice was as calm as ever and his eyes were sharp, set on her like he wanted to learn her secrets. 

”I’m not sure what you mean by that,” she said.

Phil moved his glass a little to the right and slowly trailed a finger along the base. ”I think it’s quite obvious what the benefits are for Clint and me,” he said slowly. ”But how about you? Why are you in this.” He raised a placating hand to stave off her reply and continued, ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that as a question you have to answer. You don’t need to explain yourself or your reasons to me and I’m in no position to demand anything from you. What I mean is more…” His voice trailed away and he glanced at his right, giving a self-deprecating shrug. ”I wish you’re doing this for the right reasons, Laura. Because you feel there’s something for you, too, and not because you feel that’s something you have to do to keep your marriage going.

”I know where I stand: I’m the third party here. Clint’s loyalty and love are first and foremost to you and the children. You come first and I wouldn’t dream of coming in between. I have no claim on him—”

”Okay, I need you to stop right there,” she interrupted flatly. ”Is this why you wanted to have dinner with me? So that you could talk shit about yourself without Clint interrupting you?” She shook his head. ”You deserve each other, seriously,” she muttered, sighed, and downed her wine.

The waiter arrived just in time to take their main course order and she had a moment to gather her thoughts. Was that how Phil really felt in this? That he was always the extra one, an intruder who had no claim on the people he loved? That he would forever be the underdog, always the last one in Clint’s priorities?

”You’re thinking very loud,” Phil said when they were alone again. 

”I’m…trying to figure out why you wanted to make that statement.”

”I wanted to make sure you know I’d never make him choose—”

”Oh, I know that. And I know what he’d do: he’d choose the kids because if there’s one thing Clint is absolutely set on doing is to be a better father than his old man ever even dreamt to be.

”If you have any misplaced ideas that I said yes as a means of charity or because I feel indebted to you, get rid of them. I’m not that charitable or selfless. And yes, I know that in some circles, our agreement isn’t a full triad because aside from friendship, I’m not interested in a relationship with you. So, one might wonder what I’m getting from this. I think the most correct answer is… security. Peace of mind. Stability.

”I know what you do for a living. All three of you. Having someone there, looking after him, it means a lot. I know I can trust you to bring him back, not only because he’s a valued asset to SHIELD but because you love him.” She couldn’t help a small smile at the way the unflappable Agent Coulson blushed.

”Besides, I hope to get something out of this,” she said lightly. ”Clint is a more…hands-on guy which I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’s never been interested in museums or modern art, or theater. He appreciates the technique and specifics of the art but he’s not exactly a connoisseur. Unlike you.”

”You tell me where you want to go and I’ll be more than happy to be your plus one,” Phil said and raised his glass.

”We have a deal. As long as you remember that you don’t have to do things for me out of obligation, because you feel like you have to,” she reminded him. ”We’re all adults here.”

Phil’s lips twitched. ”This is Clint we’re talking about,” he said dryly, making Laura snort.

She was still grinning as the steaks were brought out. 

***

”Oh my God,” Phil breathed, his coffee forgotten as he stared at his phone.

Clint let out a sleepy noise as he staggered into the kitchen and straight to Laura, leaning on her like a limpet. ”Tell me you have coffee,” he whined, his eyes closed and his hair sticking up.

Laura rolled her eyes and pointed at the pot. ”Good morning to you too. What was that, Phil?” She asked as she finished rinsing the grapes and set them on the table in front of Lila. ”Cooper! Breakfast!”

”They found Captain America!” Phil whispered with wide eyes.

”In the Smithsonian?” Clint asked.

The dismayed and scandalous noise that Phil let out was something he’d probably later deny. ”No, you ass. In the ice. And apparently, he’s alive!”

”Daddy said ass!” Lila stage-whispered to Laura who smiled and pointed at her grapes with a raised brow.

Clint stared at him for a moment with the coffee pot in one hand and his coffee mug in the other. He glanced at the pot, then at the mug, and then promptly drank the coffee straight from the pot. ”I need more coffee to deal with this,” he muttered over Laura’s sigh.

”Why’s dad an ass?” Cooper asked as he entered the kitchen. ”Again?”

”I—I need to go,” Phil said, scrambling up. He hurried out of the kitchen, leaving a disgruntled Clint leaning on the counter, and barged back in a moment later, kissed Clint on the mouth and Laura on the cheek. ”I’ll call you,” he said and then he was off.

”What just happened?” Cooper asked.

”Apparently, Captain America is alive,” Laura said. ”SHIELD business. Eat your cereal.”

Phil didn’t call that day, nor the next. In fact, it took him almost a week to call and by then, Clint was already ordered to New Mexico to oversee a blue cube or…something, Laura wasn’t sure. Tasha was on a solo mission and if Laura was being honest, she was feeling a bit lonely. She wasn’t bored as such because there was always something to do on the farm but…anyway.

”I guess now I know how you felt,” Clint said ruefully on one of their nightly calls. ”He’s so wrapped up with Captain America that he hardly remembers I’m here.”

”No, you don’t,” Laura said calmly. ”Because you fell in love with Phil. Phil can’t fall in love with Captain America because Captain America isn’t real.”

”But Laura—” Clint whined.

”Suck it up, Hawkeye,” she snorted. ”How are you holding up?”

”I’m bored. I’m staring at scientists creaming their pants over a fancy glowing cube and I’m bored.”

”Tough,” Laura deadpanned.

”Nick’s coming over tomorrow or the day after,” Clint said. ”I’m gonna ask him to give me a couple of days off. I miss you guys.”

”Yeah, we miss you too. Pumpernickel tried to bite me today.”

”That horse is a menace, I told you so.” She heard a commotion in the background and then Clint said, ”I gotta go. They’re gonna shoot blue light from the blue cube into a wall or something. Must be Christmas. You know, remind me to tell Tasha to never ever let Stark near this thing.”

”I will. Take care, love you.”

”I love you all. Give a kiss to the kids for me but stay away from that horse, okay?”

***

The next time she heard about Clint, it was when Nick called and told her Clint had been taken over by Thor’s brother who had an inferior complex and way too much to prove to someone.

***

Getting Clint back after Phil’s death was simply heartbreaking. He was a shell of his former self, plagued by his guilt and how petty he’d been about the whole Captain America crush. Laura tried to console him and Tasha offered to hit him in the head again but it didn’t do much good. It was like a part of him had been snuffed out and while he tried, he just wasn’t shining as brightly as before.

Understandably, he was taken off the roster. The Avengers as a group was loosely tied at best and with the alien threat eliminated, there was no reason for them to stay together. And since both Clint himself and a major part of SHIELD blamed him for the attack on the Helicarrier and getting good agents killed, he wasn’t exactly wanted in the base, either. He was lost and if he didn’t have the farm to take care of, Laura was sure he would’ve just…wandered away.

Tasha was heartbroken as well but in a different way. This was the first time she had the chance to actually mourn someone: to toast and reminisce, to get spectacularly drunk. She didn’t cry but her eyes weren’t dry either.

Laura didn’t let Phil’s room turn into a shrine, not exactly. It slowly reverted back into a guest room but with Phil’s things in it. A place to stay and think, to remember a dear friend and a lover. Sometimes, Clint slept there when the nightmares became too much and he felt brittle and fragile in a way Laura wasn’t sure she could help. When Tasha came over, she stayed there, reading Russian poetry aloud to grieving Cooper and Lila who wasn’t sure of what had happened but that Daddy was gone and everyone was sad.

And sometimes Laura herself sat there, her hands over her lap, and just breathed. She might not have been in love with Phil like Clint had been but she had loved him like a friend and she missed him dearly.

***

”Mrs. Barton,” the gruff voice barked, tinny through the speaker. ”I need to talk to you.”

She gripped the phone so hard it squeaked in her hold. ”Why are you calling me, Nick? Clint and Tasha are here and Phil’s dead. What possible reason would you have to contact me?”

There was a pregnant moment of silence and then, ”Yeah…about that.”

She groped blindly for a chair and sat, staring right ahead with unseeing eyes. ”You’re joking,” she said flatly. She heard steps from the stairs and recognized them as Tasha which meant she’d wanted her to hear her. ”What did you do?”

”It was an experimental procedure,” Nick said slowly.

”By which you mean you don’t know what you did. That’s nice. So, how long has he been alive?”

At the bottom of the stairs, Tasha gasped and darted back upstairs.

”That depends on how you define ’alive’ and ’how long’,” Nick drawled. When Laura didn’t bother commenting, he sighed. ”It was meant for an Avenger, Laura,” he said, sounding both tired and pissed off. ”And he’s an Avenger.”

”I hope you did it for the right reasons,” Laura said icily. ”Because you have no idea how close you came to losing Clint too.”

She was distracted as Clint clambered down the stairs, eyes wide. ”He’s alive?” He breathed. ”He’s really alive?” He reached blindly for the phone but Tasha intercepted him, pushing him to Laura instead, and took the phone from her hand.

”I have three things to say to you, sir,” Tasha said to the phone. Her voice held an odd note and with a slight shock, Laura realized that this wasn’t Tasha speaking. This was Black Widow. ”One: you will hand over all medical information about him. Two: you will cut him free from SHIELD––no, if he wants to return, he will return on his own terms––I really couldn’t care less.” She fell silent for a moment and then said in a low, emotionless tone, ”Three: Minsk 1974,” and hung up.

Three days later, they were at a remote, suspiciously well-guarded hospital. 

”What the hell did you do to him?” Laura asked from the other side of the door, watching as Phil twitched and spasmed while Clint held on to his hand and kept on a steady commentary, trying to gently wake him up from his nightmare. 

Nick stood in parade rest, his hands behind his back. ”As I said, it was an experimental treatment,” he said after a moment. ”We didn’t know if it would work and even if it did, we didn’t know if he’d come back…normal.”

”Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tasha muttered and hissed something in Russian. ”Will he get better? Will he remember?”

”We don’t know. But that’s why—”

”You need a place for him to stay,” Laura interrupted. ”I understand. But I hope you understand what you’re asking. Of him.” She nodded at Clint, rubbing the back of Phil’s hand.

Nick turned to face her fully. ”I know this isn’t a Sunday stroll, Mrs. Barton. I’m not asking this as Agent Barton’s boss, I’m asking as Clint and Phil’s friend. Look, as far as I know, your home is the stablest and most…wholesome place I know. If there’s a place Cheese can fully recuperate, it’s that farm.

”He needs you because I can’t help him,” he said bluntly.

Laura crossed her arms across her chest and gave the frail man in the bed a long, hard look. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. ”I expect to be fully compensated for this. I expect medical experts at my beck and call around the clock. I expect the best physical therapists to know the way to our house with their eyes shut and I expect to get occupational therapists and speech therapists to arrive when I call them. Is that clear?”

Nick nodded. ”I’ll have Maria look it over. Thank you, Laura.”

”Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered as he walked away, his long, black leather jacket swaying.

***

Four and half months after the Battle of New York, a quinjet landed on the field behind the Barton Farm, and a pale man with grey, confused eyes walked to the house, accompanied by three nurses and a physical therapist. He wasn’t sure where he was or why but he’d been told during the transit that he’d been hurt badly and that he was going to a safe, peaceful place to rest and get better.

They arrived at a big, blue house with white window sills, a barn a bit to the side, and a paddock with four horses. As they drew closer to the house, the front door opened and a woman with brown hair stepped out, giving him a gentle smile.

”Hello, Phil,” she said calmly. ”Welcome home.”

NOW

The reason it hurts so goddamn much this time, Laura reasons, is because they thought they’d finally gotten a break. Tony Stark’s megalomaniac robot has been dealt with and the world is slowly pulling itself back on its feet after the aftermath of SHIELD’s breakdown. The Avengers are apparently meeting a group councelor which is at the same time absolutely freaking hilarious and tragically overdue.

Laura finally had her whole family under one roof once more.

They finally had a moment to breathe.

Laura sighs, closes her eyes, and pinches the base of her nose to stave off an impending headache. Perhaps that’s the reason: when they finally had the chance to just sit down and relax, Phil’s body decided that hey, this was the perfect moment to let go of the duct tape and spite that held his mind together and let everything unravel again.

It’s cruel and it’s heartbreaking and Laura just wants to punch something but because she’s a responsible adult, she hisses the Russian swearwords Natasha taught her under her breath instead. Cooper gives her a look and she just shakes her head, too tired for much else.

She thought they’d finally have some time for themselves. Instead, they have to start from scratch. Again.

Phil is trying. He wakes up confused each day, picks himself up and listens to their explanations of who and where he is, goes to bed exhausted but happy he’s home only to wake up blank again. In all honesty, it’s probably easiest for him because even though waking up to a new place each morning is tiring, it’s nothing compared to what the rest of them is going through. 

Especially Clint.

He’s trying. He’s trying so hard it breaks Laura’s heart. He’s patient and gentle with Phil even though it eats him from the inside out how Phil answers to him with polite distant words. His body still remembers Clint’s comfort and turns to him like a flower to the sun and the dichotomy of his words and body language is jarring. 

”Is this what you had to do?” Clint asks one night. He’s holding Laura close and talking into the crook of her neck, whispering the words in the cover of the darkness. ”Every fucking day, explain the same things to him over and over again?”

Laura hums and presses a kiss on the top of his head. ”Yes. But you should remember that I can always fall back to my nursing persona. I can wrap that professionalism around me like a cloak and it helps me cope.”

Clint is silent for a long while before he mutters, ”But still.”

”But still,” Laura agrees. 

”It would be so like Phil to hold on and just force himself to function until all that shit with Ultron was done and then let go of the control,” Clint says. 

”I wouldn’t be surprised,” Laura says.

Clint lifts his head and frowns. ”Wait, really?”

Laura rolls her eyes and pecs a kiss on his nose. ”You of all people should know how much a body can go through under extreme stress. It fits his character.”

”I wish he had a bit less character,” Clint grumbles and flops back partially on top of her.

Laura huffs. ”He wouldn’t be Phil if he did,” she reminds him. 

Clint sighs. ”I know.”

***

Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise her but it does when Wanda arrives and hesitantly asks if she’d be allowed to scan Phil’s mind. She looks healthier and the desperate grief is gone from her eyes. Clearly, living at the new Compound suits her.

”I know the last thing you want is for me to poke around someone’s mind,” she says, looking at Clint with big, earnest eyes. ”No matter how much I helped in Sokovia, I still violated your friends. But I think…I think I could help.”

”Kid, you were manipulated, angry, and afraid. We’ve all been there,” Clint says quietly. ”Am I hesitant? Fuck yes. We don’t know what Nick did and how fucked-up Phil’s brain actually is. But if you can see into his mind, if you can help even a bit…” His words trail away and he swallows. ”Please,” he finally says.

Something in Wanda’s eyes hardens with determination and she nods. ”He should be sitting down for this,” she says.

”His bedroom?” Clint suggests.

Wanda shakes her head and Laura agrees. ”No. If something goes wrong, I want him to feel safe in his bedroom,” she says.

”The living room should be fine,” Laura says softly.

Phil trusts Clint when he says Wanda is trying to help but they all see the way he flinches when she reaches out her hand. She stops and waits for Phil to compose himself and give her a small nod. Then she leans forward a bit and closes her eyes as the red mist slowly starts dancing from her fingers to Phil’s temple. To Laura, a trained nurse, this is simply fascinating. Wanda’s powers look like magic but perhaps magic is just science the world doesn’t understand yet. And she really couldn’t care less if it helps.

For some while, Wanda stays completely still with the barest frown on her face, and apart from a slight sheen of sweat slowly gathering on her upper lip, she seems completely unaffected. When she finally shudders and lets out a sigh, Laura feels like she’s been holding her breath the whole time.

”Strange,” Wanda says and tilts her head. ”There was a…compulsion, I think. I couldn’t figure out how it was supposed to work but it was eroding his mind so I removed it.”

”Just like that?” Clint asks, naked hope in his voice.

Wanda gives him a dry look which is somewhat nullified by the fact that she sways. ”No, not ’just like that.’ It was actually quite hard. But it’s gone now.”

”What now?” Laura asks.

”I’m not sure,” Wanda says. She sighs and rolls her shoulders with a wince. ”We have to wait until he wakes up. This isn’t going to cure him, you know?” She adds sharply. ”I eased the way. I didn’t heal him. I can’t.”

Clint cups Phil’s cheek and brushes a thumb over his cheekbone. ”I never expected that,” he says. ”But you helped. And that’s enough.” He sits on the couch and arranges Phil to lean against his chest, holds him close. Laura pecks a kiss on his cheek and beckons Wanda to the kitchen to give them some space.

***

Is it a miracle cure? Of course it isn’t.

But it gets easier. Instead of just Laura, he has Clint as a steady, grounding presence beside him and he has Wanda helping him to navigate the tattered remains of his mind, collecting all the frayed wisps and knitting them back together again. And after some spectacular needling, he also has Tony Stark’s machine that gently, carefully picks up the fragments and helps him to make sense of them all.

It’s hard to say how Phil feels about it all. No matter how much of his memories he has at any given time, he’s still his calm and collected self. He observes and listens, and only the lost look in his eyes belies what’s going on.

However, the most brilliant idea doesn’t come from Tony Stark. It comes from Lila.

”Daddy, you should make a scrapbook,” she says one morning out of the blue.

”I’m sorry?” Phil asks, genuinely confused.

”Yeah. Like, you could write down important things and put pictures there and things like that. And stickers. Stickers are important.”

Phil blinks a couple of times. ”They are?”

”Yep!” Lila says seriously. 

”Honey, eat your cereal,” Laura says. ”You can give Daddy tips on scrapbooks after school.”

Which she does with great enthusiasm. Laura and Clint watch somewhat bemused as Lila and Phil build him a scrapbook (or a memory journal, as Lila likes to call it) in the kitchen. For reasons beyond both of them, the process seems to involve a lot of glitter.

Of course, because Phil is Phil, the journal he puts together with Lila isn’t enough. He asks for a cheap polaroid camera (and gets a fancy one from Tony because of course he does) and starts taking pictures. He photographs the farm, the animals, the purple tractor, the kids, Clint, Laura, Clint and Laura, Natasha, Tony…the people and places important to him. He scribbles notes on the pictures and sometimes draws on them, a process that makes Clint very curious. He also buys several leather-bound high-quality journals but Laura never sees him write in them. She doesn’t ask why.

***

Slowly, the good days start to outnumber the bad days, and even when Phil is having a bad day, he seems to be more coherent, more aware of what’s going on and where he is. Clint is hesitantly hopeful that it’s a sign for Phil getting gradually better. Laura isn’t so sure; he sees how Phil sometimes climbs back to his room confused and comes back more put together.

On one clear day, she asks him about it.

”I should’ve known you’d notice,” Phil says, slightly sheepish. ”Come. I’ll show you.”

He walks her to his room and points at a dark purple-lacquered box on the sideboard. Laura has noticed it but she assumed from the color that it’s from Clint—not that she’d go around snooping Phil things anyway. Now, at Phil’s invitation, she peers at the lid. It says, Do you know who and where you are?

She raises a brow and Phil nods. 

The box is divided into two sections and when she pushes the lid up, the inside of the lid reads YES / NO with stylized arrows pointing down at the sections. On the YES side is a thick journal and the NO side is filled with polaroids, numbered and neatly arranged in stacks.

”Lila’s idea was brilliant,” Phil says quietly. ”I just took it a bit further.”

Laura makes no move to touch the contents of the box and, after a short moment, Phil picks up the journal. ”This is for the days I remember. It’s actually a pretty normal journal; I write down what I’ve done during the day, I write down dates and events and my thoughts. And yes, there are stickers.”

”Because they’re important,” Laura says, absolutely serious.

”Yes,” Phil confirms. He puts the journal back in its place and picks up the pictures. ”And these are… well. See for yourself.”

He hands Laura the stack labeled, Start with this. The first picture is of Phil, his name in Phil’s familiar, neat script under the picture with an arrow to indicate to turn the picture around. Behind the polaroid, is a text: ’This is you. This is me. Phil Coulson. A dedicated partner and friend, co-parent to three wonderful kids. And yes, there is a reason why we know so many ways to kill a person with office stationery items.’

There are pictures of Clint and Laura and the kids, each with detailed, wry descriptions. There’s a picture of Clint and Laura kissing, of Phil and Clint kissing, and of the three of them on the couch, Laura and Phil kissing a blushing Clint on each cheek. 

All the pictures Phil had taken have ended up in this box, framing and detailing his life, helping him to remember and understand where he is.

”Oh,” Laura says. ”So the times you went up to your room and then came back down with better memory, you came here to recharge?”

Phil shrugs. ”In a way, yes. It’s not perfect but there’s a good chance I’ll never be the way I am.” He quirks a smile. ”This way I can get closer.”

Carefully, Laura puts the pictures down and turns to face him. ”You do realize that you are enough just as you are?” She asks. ”You are part of this family even if you never regained all your memories. We all love you, Phil.”

He ducks his head, something fragile flickering across his face. ”I know. I just…it’s frustrating.”

”I know. Give it time. Give yourself time.” She opens her arms and raises her brow and when Phil nods, she wraps him in a tight hug. ”You are not alone. And if you need to catch up at times, we’ll be waiting for you.”

”Okay,” Phil whispers into her shoulder.

Okay. 

It’s a start.

CODA // On a remote roadside cafe somewhere in the world

”Pancakes?” Phil asks, pointing at the giant, slightly lopsided pile of fluffy pancakes with his fork. ”They’re really good. Try some.”

Winter Soldier—no, this is definitely Bucky Barnes—tilts his head just slightly. ”And if I don’t?”

Phil shrugs. ”More for me.” He pauses and then corrects, ”Ah, no. Perhaps I should take the rest home. My doctor says I should watch my cholesterol.”

”Is that a code?”

”Considering the ’doctor’ is my friend and the wife of my partner, then yes,” Phil says with a barely-there smile. ”But she says I still need to watch my cholesterol.”

Bucky Barnes looks slightly constipated. ”Your whose what now?”

Phil sets his utensils down on his now empty plate and eyes the pile of pancakes. There’s a reason why this place is one of his favorites for interviews and it isn’t just because the owners are Natasha’s distant relatives-slash-acquaintances from three lifetimes removed.

”Let’s just say my family is special,” he says.

Bucky Barnes snorts. ”Like the sniper writing ’asshole’ on my back with the laser right now?”

In Phil’s comm, Clint sputters. ”How the fuck did he know that?”

”He says he can also draw dicks, if you’d prefer,” Phil says conversationally.

”Hey!” Clint scoffs, offended. ”Also, damn I love how you can deadpan stuff like that.”

For a moment, Bucky Barnes sits completely still. Then he asks, simply, ”Why? Because of some everyone-deserves-a-second-chance bullshit?”

Unhurried, Phil dabs his mouth with the napkin, leans back against the worn vinyl seat. ”No. Not everyone deserves a second chance and that’s not what I’m offering.” He looks Bucky Barnes straight in the eyes and sees the familiar barely-concealed panic staring back at him. ”It’s because I know how it feels when your mind is not your own. I know how it feels to wake up without knowing who you are or where or when and yet, somehow, possessing the knowledge of twelve ways to kill someone with a knitting needle and a Hello Kitty -bandaid.” 

He stands up, casts the last, longing look at the pancakes, and then resolutely buttons up his jacket. ”Also, Natashenka says hello,” he says and slides a piece of pale green paper across the table. The Cyrillic code means nothing to him since it contains letters he’s never seen before but if the way Barnes’s eyes go wide, he knows exactly how to read it.

”Take your time, think about it,” Phil says. ”You know how to reach us.”

Then he turns and walks out, feeling Barnes’s eyes on the nape of his neck the whole way. 

”You know, it’s pretty ballsy of you to turn your back at the Winter Soldier like that,” Clint chuckles through the comm.

”I didn’t turn my back at the Winter Soldier, I turned my back at Bucky Barnes,” Phil points out, putting on his shades. He can already feel the telltale pounding of a migraine behind his eyes. ”Are you coming back with me?”

”Already here,” Clint says, leaning against Phil’s nondescript rental. How he managed to climb down his nest and get to the car in the time it took Phil to walk through the cafe and across the yard, Phil doesn’t know. 

”Hi,” he says.

Clint cocks his head and narrows his eyes. ”Headache?” He asks.

”Yeah,” Phil says. ”Could be bad.”

”Get in, I’ll drive,” Clint says, pushing himself to stand up. He waits until Phil has made it in and put the seatbelt on before he says, softly, ”I’ve got you, Phil. Let’s go home.”

Phil closes his eyes and lets himself drift. Without his conscious thought, his right hand finds the polaroid he keeps with him at all times—the one with their whole family and a word ’home’ written on it. On the driver’s seat, Clint chatters on, going over the grocery list Laura sent his phone and whether or not he should brave the new grill Tony sent them the previous week.

Phil lets out a sigh and relaxes.

He’s going home.